Original pencil drawing. I didn't post a poem yesterday, so am now playing catch-up.
Do you know how dangerous it is to tell someone what's really on your mind?
It sounded nicer in my head.
I've collapsed again and will rebuild,
But for what?
The pitfalls have become more frequent than the boons.
I fell into madness again and will continue to seek it out,
But for how long?
Or is this madness just me letting go in a safe space?
I told the truth, even though it was supposed to be a secret between just myself and I.
And now I am ashamed at having shown my rawness.
You don't know how it breaks me afterward, the opening.
I keep that a secret still.
How these midnight sessions leave me numb and voiceless,
Afraid of my own hunger.
It's unsustainable.
I collapsed again, but will rebuild.
Maybe it's alright.
Maybe that's natural.